Page 20 of Mine to Worship

“Yes, but why are you looking at houses around here?”

“We’re staying here until you feel better.”

She blinks as if that’s a preposterous concept. “You want us to live together?”

“We practically moved in together from the beginning. Considering our situation now, why are you surprised?”

“I can stay at my aunt’s.”

“Don’t do that. We have a deal,” I remind her.

“Fine, but it won’t change anything.”

We’ll see about that. While she has to stay in the hospital for observation, I make sure the lodge is furnished and stocked with all we need.

Chapter 9

Ellia

After two days of keeping down my food, I’m finally discharged from the hospital. To another bed rest.

Outside, the fresh pine scent and nature envelop me, the clear, blue sky painted above bright and serene.

“Are you sure?” my aunt asks me as Kian puts my small bag in the trunk of his car.

It seems like they’ve reached some kind of truce these last couple of days. They do more than tolerate each other and I sometimes catch them speaking in hushed tones. I wonder if my aunt wishes to see where this would lead, to compensate for what she lost, as if she’s projecting her unfulfilled desires on me. I assure her I know what I’m doing and head over to Kian.

One of us is crazy. The jury is still out on who. I can deal with not getting back into old habits, like craving him with every fiber of my being, every second I am awake. I will put all my focus into not letting that happen again. He’s stubborn, sneaky, and stealthy, a dangerous trio.

So what if he’s more open and less brooding and I could melt every time he talks with our baby, kissing my belly?

I am strong.

I will repeat the mantra until it is stamped on my brain. He hurt me, he let me believe my worst fear had come true, destroying my trust. If it weren’t for the baby, there would be no reason for us to even interact anymore.

“Ellia.”

“Hmm.”

“I love you,” he says, the declaration ruining my well-constructed argument. “Stop thinking so hard,” he says in a voice ringing of a plea in the car.

I sigh and fidget with my fingers in my lap. “I can’t.”

His hand curls around the back of my neck and he pulls me to him. He places his forehead against mine. “Let me back in. What do you want? Tell me and it’s yours,” he says, a promise etched in his gray-green eyes.

It’s on the tip of my tongue, and I open my mouth. His jaw sets in determination, his head lowers until his nose is level with mine.

“Anything but me leaving you.”

He starts the engine, and I prop my elbow against the window, resting my cheek in my palm.

“We can’t hide here forever. I have to tell my parents about the pregnancy,” I say.

“Do you want to go back? Or I could arrange for them to come here.”

“No, I…”

How do I tell him?

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